The Detective and the Dare Game
by KatieLou1
Summary: It's Sherlock's birthday, and John wants him to live a little. But will everything go as planned?
1. Birthday Antics

**The Detective and the Dare Game.**

_Chapter 1: In which John decides Sherlock needs to live a little, which proves to be a very big mistake indeed._

**Sherlock Holmes was engrossed in a conversation with his skull when Doctor John Watson returned home after his date with Sarah that Friday afternoon. It was unusual for Sherlock to be doing anything normal and hated distractions, but John cleared his throat. "Sherlock?"  
Sherlock turned around, the skull held up in his left hand, he looked like a 'Hamlet' reject. "What is it?" he said in his deep dulcet tones, his pale blue eyes sparkling as they caught the light. John avoided his gaze, those eyes were mesmerising, even to a straight man. "I was thinking, as it's your birthday tomorrow..."  
"Who told you that?" The detective was now stood up, he wasn't wearing his suit jacket, so was just stood there in his deep blue shirt. He frowned, his eyebrows become close together as he looked at John. John blinked, Sherlock not liking people knowing about his birthday? Typical really. "Mycroft" the army-doctor said, looking at the taller, younger man in front of him.  
Sherlock sighed as his siblings name was mentioned. He had a hatred for his older brother. John had no idea how deep the sibling rivalry went. Looking at the sandy blonde he sighed "What were you thinking?"  
John was surprised his flatmate had answered, he replied "Invite Lestrade and the others over for a drink, and some games?" he knew it was a bad move. Sherlock was bolt upright, slightly tense "Anderson is not coming into my flat, ever" he told John, bringing his hand onto his forehead and shaking his head at the man's stupidity. He'd seen the way Sherlock acting around Anderson. Like a child. "Ever" he repeated his voice authoritative.**

**

* * *

****John got his way; Sherlock was slouched on the sofa as he glared at Anderson. Anderson himself was inspecting everything "Who wants a drink?" John called from the kitchen. There was a mumble from Sherlock as Sally, Anderson and Lestrade all said yes. "Great, drunk Anderson, fantastic" said the Detective under his breath, he managed a steely glare at John before a glass of wine was thrust into his hand. Looking up he saw John, smiling at him.  
"C'mon Sherlock, live a little" he said, his eyes looking into the younger man's bright blue ones. Sherlock had to give in, for John, but only for John. He looked at John and took a sip of his wine, then stopped "Alcohol clouds the brain John, I need to think"  
"But not now, Sherlock please, just do this. Stop being so boring"  
That did it, Sherlock downed the wine and John refilled it. After about an hour of talking and drinking, Sally held up the empty wine bottle "Right, everyone sit down." She called; she turned to Sherlock "Even you freak"  
Sherlock stood, as everyone sat at the floor, he put his hands behind his back, and watched, as Sally spun the bottle. And tutted "Spinning a bottle, how unethical. Is this really a game?"  
Sherlock could see he wasn't going to get an answer, so sat next to John, ruffling his curly brown hair. The bottle end landed on him. "Now…that's unfair..." he started, before he was interrupted.  
The sergeant smirked, she could finally get her own back "Truth or Dare freak?" she asked.  
Scanning the conglomeration of people in his living room, the young Detective smirked "Always up for danger. Dare" he said, a smug smile on his face.  
"Snog Anderson" Sally said, grinning like a fool.  
Sherlock stood up and retched, pretending to vomit "Are you serious, I wouldn't snog THAT..." he pointed at the sickened Anderson "If you paid me!"**


	2. Aftermath

_Chapter 2: In which things start to go horribly wrong, and Sherlock gets a hangover_

**Anderson was drunk. Sally was drunk. Lestrade was drunk and John was drunk. Sherlock was starting to think he was the only sane person in 221B at this moment, but he was slightly drunk too, alcohol clouds the brain; he knew that, he needed to think. Leaving his wine glass on the table, next to the London A-Z, the same London A-Z he had used to crack the Chinese cipher, he smiled, then sighed, when he heard a crack. And turned.  
His skull lay on the floor in two pieces. The Detective clenched his fists and swung a punch at Anderson, who hastily moved his arm away from the mantelpiece "You broke my skull! How dare you!" he said, his words slurred slightly. Anderson ducked out of the way of Sherlock's fist. Lestrade restrained Sherlock, he couldn't have him knocking out his best forensic scientist, even if he was annoying, while Sally just watched with a smirk.  
John noticed Sherlock's anger, and realised he had to do something. He grabbed the empty wine bottle and mumbled a quick "Sorry..." before smashing it over the taller man's head. John flinched as the slender body of his flatmate fell to the floor.  
**************************************************

**Sherlock woke up, to a silent flat. Everyone had gone. Everyone except John that was. The skull pieces had gone, no doubt Mrs Hudson had had a clean-up, because the room was spotless. "Sherlock?" came the timid voice of the army Doctor. Sherlock blinked, and frowned "You…you hit me over the head. Just what I needed. Thanks" he told the older doctor with a smile.  
John smiled, but it was only small, his stomach was churning with guilt. He'd HIT Sherlock. Of course, the Detective was grinning "What happened? I seem to have deleted it" he said in a comedic way as John silently face palmed. Sherlock deleted knowledge of the bleeding solar system too, but at least he didn't remember "Or you're hung-over?" John suggested.  
Sherlock rolled his eyes "John, I don't get hung-over…" then rubbed his head, blinking those brilliant blue eyes a number of times. John, of course, was right. Sherlock Holmes had a hangover.  
"You're so pretty John…" the detective mumbled, before he passed out again.  
John's jaw was hanging open, had he heard right? Sherlock had called him pretty. He decided it would be best, to leave his companion alone for a while, so left 221b, in a hurry. **


End file.
